Puppet Master
by GoatEatingToilet
Summary: Ellianna Audron never had an easy life (witches rarely did) and when the villagers burned down her home it only got worse. She took her revenge, but at the ultimate cost of her powers and freedom. Now an exile in the cursed land of Wraeclast, can she find a way to survive? To endure? To rise to dominance? (Rated T for violence and gore. AU because of non-canon lore)
1. A Rude Awakening

_Author's Note: My story, much like Pikdude's, will center on a witch who happens to have a morbid interest in minions, both undead and otherwise. I do plan on taking my tale down a bit of a different path though (pun intended)._

**Chapter 1 – A Rude Awakening**

* * *

I awoke to a sensation that caused me to begin coughing violently, expelling liquid from the very back of my throat in a manner not at all unlike vomiting… only, I wasn't vomiting. I couldn't be. I hadn't done such a thing since I was a small child and besides, this had a visceral, salty taste to it.

I opened my eyes, feeling cold and wet as water splashed against me, steadily making its way up my body. I couldn't find the energy to react. When the water flooded over my head and filled my throat and lungs with more liquid I violently coughed again, exorcising the salty swill. I sprang up to a standing form without even thinking, examining the terrain while small, involuntary coughs continued to escape me. It was dark and I was completely soaked from head to toe, wearing nothing more than the rags I had managed to find in my former swampland home. Where was I?

A quick survey of the land to my right and all I could see ahead of me was endless beach decorated with patches of jagged, jutting rocks and makeshift base camps. Some still had burning fires in them, even. I was not alone here, I could not be, and yet there were no signs of life anywhere to be seen. Flashes of lightning, while nearly blinding, illuminated enough of the rock wall that adjoined the beach to show it was not something I should attempt climbing. In my weakened state, something so tall would only serve as a precarious perch to fall from when my muscles finally gave out.

A wheezing from my left caused me to jerk my attention in that direction and immediately try to conjure up some form of alchemy, but I couldn't… memories of why slowly leaking back into my brain. I gradually approached the being that had made the sound, cautiously keeping my distance. It was a man, or at least it looked to be a man. The end of a paddle oar was protruding from his stomach, its splintered end tearing at a mortal wound that was gushing blood with each breath he gasped in.

He looked up at me and I could already see the life fading from his eyes.

"We're all that made it? They dumped two dozen of us exiles off that ship. Guess that makes us the lucky ones. Luckier than this poor bastard beside me, at any rate." He gestured over to the corpse of a man next to him, laughing a little as he did and immediately wincing in pain. I stood quiet, fixated on the injury that would soon be the death of him and he took notice of my stare. "Splinter sticking out of me? Missed all the important bits… I saw smoke at those ruins up the beach. Go get some help, and I might just-"

The dead body beside him suddenly jolted and sat upright. Its glazed eyes scanned the beach for a moment before falling on the man speaking to me. Without hesitation, the thing lunged at my surviving castaway, digging fingers into the flesh around his collarbone and sinking its teeth into the man's scalp. I heard a 'crunch' noise, one that could only be attributed to bone crumbling under the pressure of something, and the man released a single scream before it and he died altogether.

As the thing continued to munch away on its ample food supply, I quietly took a step back, and another, and another. The last turned out to be one too many as the back of my heel caught on one of the protruding pieces of pointed rock and I fell backwards. I collided with the wet sand beneath me and the loud 'splat' sound it produced tore the creature's attention from the feast in front of it to my sprawled, moving form. It shoved the man aside and began to descend upon me. If there is one thing I can commend the undead for, it is their instinctual obligation to not only seek out food, but stockpile it for their insatiably appetite. I frantically pulled myself back, reaching for whatever I could grasp to defend myself. There was a piece of driftwood next to me and I held it fiercely in my soaked palm, not at all realizing how invaluable what I had just picked up really was. It was the leaves, the few shimmering, purple and blue colored leaves that held delicately to the piece of wood, which cued me in to what I had. Those leaves were a dead giveaway to what was undoubtedly a branch of an Ignis Fatuus tree. They were sacred to those of us who happened to dabble in black magic and accursed to those who followed the Order. Entire forests of the tree were burned in Oriath at the instruction of one former High Templar or another. I didn't know how it got here on this beach and I didn't care, all I knew was that I had to take action before my brains were spilling out of a hole in my head.

I raised the cluster of twigs to the approaching abomination and willed my physical strength to manifest itself and project forth. To my utter surprise and delight, my arm kicked back violently as a transparent wisp of energy shot forth and struck the corpse in the neck, severing its head from its body as if I had just sliced through the rotted area with a sword. Blood instantly began spewing from the creature's open wound, spouting upward and outward like one of the beautiful fountains I so adored as a child. After releasing a gracious amount of its ichor, the thing tumbled to the ground in a heap, the decapitated cranium rolling into the waves and being pulled back into the sea.

In the span of about a minute, I awoke on a strange land, watched a man die and dismantled a rogue undead that was about to eat me. By all accounts, it was going to be a glorious day.

A smile spread across my face as I concluded that the Sovereign Priest who had sealed away my abilities to summon dark magic had either failed to properly lock in the hex or my spirit was stronger than his conviction and it was breaking through his pitiful barricade. I may not be able to attempt the feats I once could, but the way I disposed of my would-be attack was no trick, it was my powers coming back to me.


	2. The Price of Virtue

_Author's Note: So I have come to the sad conclusion that I am not so great with multitasking stories. I currently have 3 going on at once now and I feel like I am just spreading everything too thin on them and I should just concentrate on one at a time. This one will be on the back burner for a while as I work on finishing my other two (which are far closer to completion than this one, obviously)._

**Chapter 2 – The Price of Virtue**

* * *

A blue stone rolled out of the pants pocket of the undead as it fell. It was shiny and had a faint glow to it. The thing was small, barely bigger than a pebble and I easily could have held five or more in my small palm if extras were available. As I picked it up and examined it, I realized I was holding a virtue gem. A trinket I had heard of, but never actually had at my disposal.

Countless scores of my ancestors were sacrificed to make these virtue gems, harnessing their powers one by one and infusing them into these shiny hunks of material they ripped from the very soul of the earth. Well, not just mine, but all of our ancestors, really. If it was found that someone contained a unique trait within them, they were marked and told they would be serving a 'greater good' by encapsulating what was inside and allowing it to be shared with the world. The fact that they would have to surrender their very life to accomplish such a task was viewed as honorable at the time, though.

The Vaal civilization were the first people known to use the gems, or 'Tears of Maji' as they called them, but some sort of tragedy befell the population and they were wiped from existence overnight. It is rumored that their last Queen, Atziri, brought endless suffering and death to her people while trying to find immortality for herself. It is a myth passed down for so long that most of it doesn't even make sense anymore, but it involved her powerful (and completely insane) arch thaumaturgist, Doryani, a communion with some beast or spirit and thousands upon thousands of virtue gems… one of which I could be holding in my sweaty little hand right now. After the fall of the Vaal, all that was left in their lands were the stones and mounds of shredded bodies, Queen Atziri and Doryani among them.

* * *

As brave adventurers entered the damned land, some would take handfuls of remnants as a physical display of their fearlessness. The virtue gems were the most pilfered of items.

As they made their way to the main lands, fear and loathing quickly became earmarks of the jewels. While they were secretly sought after by many, they were publicly viewed as a threat to our very way of life itself, corrupting those who came into contact with them. For a while they were thought of as a curse, a visual reminder of the temporary madness a civilization had embraced, foolishly thinking it would make them immortal and forever young when in reality it tainted the very souls of their leaders and sent the whole of them into extinction.

It didn't take long for the gems to be deemed as 'illegal' and they were rounded up by the cartful and prepped for removal… but no matter how hearty their efforts were, the charms could not be destroyed. They tried burning them in fire, but when the ashes blew away the gems were still shining bright. They hired the world's best and strongest blacksmiths to smash them to pieces, but their hammers fell before the runes they were instructed to destroy. Their most foolish plan, though, was to sink them in the farthest depths of the oceans and toss them into the deepest, darkest craters known to man. Accursed items, much like a disease in remission, have ways of finding a path back to us. They would wash ashore beaches and coastlines, being pocketed by fishermen and stragglers. Curious children would dig them up in the far corners of their yards, happily holding them in their grubby little hands to show to their mummies and daddies. The evil which was wrought upon the souls trapped in those gems could never be set free or hidden away… it always found a way.

* * *

A shrill scream in the distance broke my concentration and brought me back to the present, temporarily shelving the history lesson I was giving to myself. I looked around again, taking in the sights with a renewed vigor. This place, grim and dreary as it was, would have to be my fresh start. My fresh start after losing everything I once held dear.

I guess I should count myself lucky that I wasn't executed on the spot for what I did. Really, though, the villagers left me no choice… I had to take revenge on those who took my home, took my history and every thread of what the Audron family really was. They burned my past… so I drowned their futures through their children. I had them march one by one into the lowest point of the swamp I did, and I don't regret it. They were just beasts born of beasts after all, and someone had to cull the herd.

It didn't take long for them to find the bodies of their children and band together to take revenge (revenge for revenge… what a nasty cycle it could turn out to be), scouring the swamp with weapons in hand and nooses slung over trees. I knew what I had brought upon myself, but I grew slightly mad with rage and took no pity on my pursuers. I would burn them, poison them and even call the anger of the storms on them and each who tried to kill me fell from a distance.

Realizing how futile their efforts at retaliation would be, the remaining townsfolk went to the Court of Divine Temperance and were granted a meeting with the High Templar, Dominus. He was only too happy to send his well-trained men on a witch hunt and I knew when they came that it would be my final stand.

I took out many of the advancing Templars before they even knew what hit them, but suddenly I found the fight was over and my face was being shoved deep into the stinking mud of my surroundings while a booted foot pushed on the back of my head. I had heard rumors of the high-ranking Templars containing a power beyond anyone's grasp and imagination, a power to render even the strongest of thaumaturgists to feeble mutes. That was all it was to me, a baseless rumor... until I was silenced by one of them and truly left defenseless. If I ever happened to run into one of them again, I would not make the same mistake of not having a backup plan twice.

* * *

Again my attention was drawn to the shining stone in my hand. Though the idea of using it was almost intoxicating, my Grandmother's wise words of warning came to mind as I dared to dream of the power I could unlock.

She told me, 'To hold it is to feel its potential, to know what it can do… and also to be seduced by its dark promises of ultimate command and control. In reality, it will always end up controlling the host, as any good parasite would.' What other choice did I have, though? I was left as a cripple of the mind by the Order and a witch without any powers is simply… normal. What a disgusting thought. So I would take what I could get to regain what I had lost, and these virtue gems… well, they would do just fine.


	3. Playing with Fire

**Chapter 3 – Playing with fire**

* * *

I quickly realized I faced a dilemma…. a dilemma that concerned a complete lack of knowledge in how to even use a virtue gem. I tapped it with my nail, nothing. I spoke softly to it, it did not speak back. As a final, morbid attempt, I covered the gem in the beheaded creature's blood, hoping for some sort of sacrificial activation, but that too was a disappointment. A hefty sigh escaped my lungs as I held the elegant, but currently useless jewel in the same hand as my impromptu driftwood wand, readying myself to search the body of the once reanimated corpse in hopes of some clue as to what I could do. That was when it happened. With the two items in my hand, I could feel them mix and meld into each other. I looked at the Ignis Fatuus branch and found the gem sticking part way out of it; the wood around the thing looking twisted and blackened. And then the oddest thing happened: I began to understand what the gem was capable of, as if it was some sort of instinctual knowledge that was being carved into my brain. With this jewel, I could hurl a ball of flames that would explode upon impact with a target. This was something I simply had to see to believe. I perused my surroundings for a target to unleash this spell upon (preferably something alive and flesh; something that could burn and react) and narrowed my sights upon a strange crustacean… thing. It scurried around in six legs at an alarming pace and, when I caught a glimpse of its face, I was taken aback by the twisted façade it revealed. The creature had countless eyes, all different sizes but all glowing red and its maw… its maw was the shape of a vortex and filled with jagged teeth that rivaled the edges of the cliff-side behind me. The dangerous difference of the two being that these jagged edges could advance on me at lightning speed and possible tear flesh from bone with ease. Still, this was what I was looking for: something that was alive, something I could test this spell on to see if it actually inflicted damage and pain.

* * *

Acting upon the knowledge that had seeped into my mind with the virtue gem's awakening, I pulled my arms back and concentrated my thoughts on the chaos that fire brought with it, how the element had a hunger that could never be satiated, the searing heat, the blinding light…

As I focused on those ideas, I could see small puffs of flame manifest from thin air and gravitate towards one another. Within a second they had formed a fiery ball of wrath that appeared to be about the size of a skull. Impulsively, I moved my arms forward, bringing them closer together as they straightened, and just as my palms were about to touch the fireball, the thing shot forward towards my intended target. I could swear that time just slowed down in front of my eyes as I watched the burning sphere accelerate, leaving a trail of dissipating flame behind it before it crashed and exploded into bits of fiery destruction. I had missed… by quite a large margin. The sight was one to behold though and it unfortunately garnered the attention of the very creature I was trying to test it on. The thing skittered on its legs, positioning itself so it could see what had happened just a few yards away. It turned around just a moment later and examined me with its erratic eyes, teeth heaving in and out of the gaping hole it called a mouth.

The thing was smart… it had to be. It was studying me, maybe even sizing me up and seeing if I had another ball of fire to send its way.

"Dammit," I muttered and reared my arms back again, deciding to oblige the entity and see if I could correct my aim this time. The flames built much faster this time, which was a blessing considering that six-legged beast had begun to rush towards me and produce a horrendous 'skree' sound. I pushed my arms forward steadfast and the fireball shot onward, directly connecting with the approaching monster. The impact was just as captivating, but also more rewarding this time as I watched the spell push my prey back, explode in its face and set it ablaze.

The 'skree' sound continued, only now it grew into a shriek as I watched my burning target speedily circle around in a small area multiple times before darting for the ocean. Just as I thought: the thing _was_ smart. It slowly exited the water after dousing the flames I had put upon it, but I could see it was badly wounded. Only three of its eyes showed any hint of a red glow, and even those were quite dim. One of its charred front legs simply snapped off as it walked and it took a moment for the thing to limp to an upright position again. Like a fool, I was caught up in a trance, both in appreciation of what I had done and at the strong-willed spirit of… whatever this was. It turned around and raised its tail towards me. There was a small gyration of it before I heard a piercing sound of something whizzing by my ear. The noise was enough to break my concentration, but it wasn't fast enough. Another gyration and I felt a burning, sting in my arm. I instantly raised my other hand to it and felt the warm release of blood oozing from a fresh wound. There was no time to investigate what had happened, as the thing was rearing up for another attack and I had to move out of range quickly. I hastily shot another scorching spell at it and my aim proved satisfactory, only this time critter didn't become ignited- it exploded into chucks of blood and giblets instead.

Elation ran through my body and I could feel another wicked smile spread across my face as I cheerily poked through the smoking remains with my wand. Sure, I was a little worse for wear this time around, but I was also two for two in encounters. I eagerly looked forward to what else this land had to offer me.


	4. And the Swords Too, Shall Dance

**Chapter 4 – And the Swords Too, Shall Dance**

* * *

Tearing a small section of my already heavily tattered, patchwork garment, I made an improvised bandage and painstakingly attempted to wrap the area where the tiny, circular flesh wound was. It stung as if sand were tickling at my exposed flesh and the effort needed to secure a proper tie with just one hand was something I had severely misjudged. The end result wasn't pretty, but I didn't need for it to be for it to work. After securing my injury, I proceeded to wreak havoc across the sandy landscape before me. The moans and screams of the creatures who met their fiery demise at my hands were only occasionally muted by the roar of the ocean as a nasty tide came in. There was a dark corruption about this land, of that I was certain. Along with the mutated invertebrate that roamed the shores, more walking dead accompanied them and sought to be the death of me. I quickly grew tired of dodging the projectiles that were occasionally throw at me and grabbed at a splintered plaque that was sticking up from the ground, half buried in the sand. From what I could tell, it was someone's attempt at making their own shield. Warped, misshapen panels of wood were packed side by side and held together with fraying lengths of rope at either end. The thing was big and tall, but thankfully not too heavy due to the deterioration of the materials used. If I held it at my center, the width could easily outstretch my shoulders and its height went from the middle of my shins to the bottom of my chin. I had my doubts that it could withstand the swing of a sword, but it would keep the hands of the undead at bay, as well as whatever those sea-creatures shot out of their back orifices. The shield was just as crude as my wand, just as rough as my compress, but it too would work.

* * *

I searched each corpse I put to rest, hoping to find a hidden treasure like I had with the first one and, as luck would have it, one of the skittering beasts had consumed a green stone and I became the new owner upon its death. Unwittingly, I set the gem atop the shield while I went to the ocean to clean the smoldering bits of meat and sludgy half-digested food particles from my hands. Even with the sight gone, I wouldn't dare raise my appendages to close to my face, for that putrid stench was too strong even for me. Such a shame that it would be absorbed into my skin for some time. Upon my return to my new play thing, I frowned at the sight of the green gem embedded perfectly into the middle of the shield, surrounded by a twisted, blackened encasement that I had seen on my wand.

"Dammit…" I sighed, realizing that this would mean I would have to carry the hulking shield around with me if I took a fancy to the gem inside of it. "Oh well," I continued to speak aloud to no one in particular, "let's see what we've got here."

I rearmed myself with my safeguard and once again new knowledge was being written into my brain. This was a curious gem indeed. The power it offered, as best as I could understand it, was the ability to animate inorganic objects and ally them to my command to do my bidding. It was amazingly fascinating, and I couldn't wait to try it out.

* * *

I scoured the sands before me and my eyes landed on a rusted sword that has seen its fair share of combat. The chink-riddled weapon was rooted in a large, upright log in one of the makeshift camps I had seen from a distance. Upon closer inspection of the barricade, perhaps the places were made more for battlefronts than rest spots. The walls of upright logs were all carved to have a sharp point at the top and there were long-abandoned (and emptied) crates and barrels near them. I pulled at the sword in an attempt to free it from the post, but whoever put it there had some muscle behind their action. I pulled with all of my might, but it was to no avail. From what I could see, the blade hadn't even moved from its spot. I grabbed the handle again, placing one hand over the other and began to push instead of pull, putting my full body weight against the thing. With mere moments there was a harsh 'snap' sound of metal and I stumbled forward, almost falling face-first into the sand beneath me. I looked at the freed edge in my hands, frowning in expectant disappointment at the broken point at the head of the weapon.

"Perfect…" I muttered, picking up my shield and closing my eyes to concentrate on just how to animate this thing. I stood there for several moments, my focus fierce and clear… but nothing was happening. Perhaps this gem wasn't as it presented itself to me or perhaps I had misunderstood of it completely… perhaps I had no idea what I was doing after all.

"Useless!" I spat out in disgust, my narrow gaze fixed on the blade before I flung it to the ground. "Completely usel…" I trailed off, realizing where I had made my error. How could an object move and fend for itself when it was being restricted by a human hand to begin with?

I peered down at the rusted sliver of metal again and closed my eyes, gripping the shield tight in my hand. As I centered my thoughts, my mind innately bringing thought of life and movement to the forefront, I could feel something… it wasn't anything I could explain, but I certainly felt something. I slowly opened my eyes and grew half delirious with delight at the vision before me. The sword was levitating in front of me before darting back and forth quickly, appearing to be on guard for something to attack. One of my six-legged friends had just crawled out of the ocean and I set my sights upon it. My new companion suddenly rushed towards the beast and violently began hacking away at it. There were short shrieks of 'skree!' as the thing tried to understand what was happening to it, but it's time to react was cut short as the sword thrust itself into the monster's head. It pulled free a moment later and began to search again. My friend had a bloodthirst that deserved appreciation. As I walked, it stayed ahead of me, slashing back and forth while making threatening "whoosh' sounds as it cut the air, openly challenging anything to face it. No more than a minute could have passed before the sword stopped its slicing motions and returned to a calm state of levitation. I began to question what was going on when I could see it rapidly deteriorate into a fine dust. I reached for the blade, uncertain of what I would do with it, but desperately wanting to stop what was happening, and felt the metal turn to nothing in my hand.

It was gone. Simply gone.

* * *

I went down to bended knee and quickly began to rummage through the seaweed and wooden debris lining the ocean shore. I wanted desperately to find some other weapon, any other weapon to bring to life. Had I done something wrong? Was the state of the blade too damaged for the spell to hold? I had to know. I had to try again. I pricked my finger on something sharp and cried out in surprise and pain accordingly. In my search, I had unearthed something rudimentary (Gods, was anything _not_ rudimentary around here?). It was a jagged, broken shard of glass. A ratty rag was tightly wound around its base and made for a very workable handle.

"This may do," I thought to myself, hoping against hope that I was right. I didn't even bother to close my eyes this time; I simply followed the same pattern of thought while looking at the knife. It rose up almost instantly and carried the same frenzied state of mind as its predecessor.

I smiled and continued to push forward across the landscape. I would eventually have to run into something other than this if I just keep moving forward. I heard the familiar moan of a walking corpse up ahead and my floating assassin seemed to hone in on my senses and flew several feet forward, looking for the source of the noise. A bloated, wet, decomposing body came shambling around the corner of a giant rock and the animated weapon swarmed it, plunging itself deep into the cadaver's chest again and again. The undead soon became dead again after the glass shank had carved a gaping hole into its chest, and we were once again on our way. It wasn't long after the encounter that my gleeful mood was soured by the sight of yet another perfectly fine travel partner disintegrate to nothing and blow away in the wind.

"No!" I yelled out angrily, covering my mouth a moment later when I remembered just how deadly my current location truly was. Attracting unnecessary attention upon myself was not the wisest move with my current circumstance.

The spell, as it seemed, was powerful but short lasting… and it completely destroyed the object it was cast upon. The upside, I told myself, was that I could drop this clunky shield as soon as I found a suitable replacement and the gem wouldn't amount to much of a loss. I turned the corner of yet another sharpened log wall and quickly pulled back in a slight panic. What had my eyes just seen? Could it really have been what I thought it was? Something big was on the other side of that wall… and it was alive.


	5. Hillock

**Chapter 5 – Hillock**

* * *

There was a lumbering undead waiting for me on the other side of this barricade… only this one was big. Bigger than any human I had ever encountered before, that was for sure, and now I had to deal with it in another state of being altogether. The thing had seen its fair share of combat from the looks of it- there were arrows protruding from various spots in its chest, arms and legs. There was also a sword to match the monster's size plunged steadfast into its heart.

"He'll kill you, you know?" a gurgling voice uttered next to me. I flinched back in shock, readying my hands to hurl a ball of fire at whoever had snuck up on me. My caution turned out to be unwarranted after all, for the person lying near me was in no condition to cause any harm. It was no wonder that I hadn't taken notice of them in my initial passing, as anyone could easily see that they were at death's door. The brown-haired girl sat slumped up against the towering barrier, a few quick flashes of lightning illuminating the extent of her injuries far better than my fading flame was. Along with numerous cuts and gashes along her body, the long end of an arrow was protruding from the side of her neck, blood oozing in a steady flow from the puncture hole. Her arms sat limp and lifeless at the sides of her body, the right one bent in a way that would indicate a break somewhere. It was almost cruel to let her continue to suffer in such a state.

"Maybe- maybe you're a little better off than I was," she acknowledged and I watched her eyes follow the waning embers around my arms as I relaxed.

"All I had was a bow… and one too many arrows." She began to cough violently, causing a surge of blood to rush out of her mouth with each spasm.

"Shh, shh, shh," I instructed, edging my way toward her and falling to bended knee. It was the closest I could come to 'concern' when truly my only worry was the noise attracting the giant's attention. "You mustn't-"

"Tarkleigh was right. I never should have left. I never should have tried to-" The girl interrupted herself this time with yet another coughing fit.

I heard something coming our way from just beyond the wall. A nauseous feeling enveloped my stomach as I felt despair overcome my senses. I didn't have any time to plan, the creature would be biting at my heels in no time and there was only so much beach I could use to distance myself from it before there would truly be nowhere to run.

"Go! You must run!" she warned, but her eyes widened as she finished and I felt something latch onto my long, black hair and lift me right up off the ground. I screamed out as pain vibrated through my skull in waves. Suddenly I was flying backwards through the air, my vision became a blur. The shield flew out of my grasp as I hit the ground. The impact was so great that I actually bounced back into the air for a moment.

There was some guttural, almost inhuman growl and, as my sights realigned, I could see the brute that made the sound. What I had seen for only a fleeting moment before did not do justice to what was approaching me. The man was huge, towering at least eight feet high and his build was nothing but muscle. Decaying muscle, but muscle nonetheless. Along with the arrows and sword protruding from his body, there was also a large gash on the top of his head where not even bone remained. The sight of his mush-like brain sloshing around in the open captivity would have been enough to sicken even the sturdiest of people.

I tried to move but my body was frozen and the initial hit to the ground had knocked the air out of my lungs. I must have looked like a fish out of water, flailing my body with minimal movement and straining to just get a breath of air.

'Over here!' I heard the wounded girl yell from behind the hulking mass. 'Over here, you dumb beast! You haven't finished with me yet!'

The ploy worked, garnering the undead's attention and making it turn back. I watched it raise its foot up above the girl's head before she released one final, blood-curdling scream and I turned my head to face away. Even at a distance, I could hear the familiar crunch of bone giving way to pressure and I knew that I was next in line.

In the few seconds I had been thrown, I was finally able to gasp in breath (even if it felt like the action burned my lungs), turn myself over and dig my fingers into the sand beneath me to pull myself forward. I could only hope that the man was busying himself with a fresh kill, a fresh meal, and not paying me any mind. For some reason, I looked back… which was a mistake. The spectacle that met my eyes as I peeked over my shoulder was the bulky being bending at the knees and launching itself into the air. It soared an abnormally great distance before practically landing on top of me, shaking the land beneath us. I was on the verge of a scream (or an attempted one, at least) when one over-sized hand wrapped itself around my neck and I was again lifted off the ground. The strength this being held was beyond imagination and I felt as my body weighed less than a dying leaf in his hands. The corpse raised me high above his head, grinning in some sick sense as blood and gunk leaked from the hole in its head and covered the left side of its face. As I felt the grip tighten, I was sure that my neck and all of the fleshy, bony contents within would be crushed in moments. The beast reached up to its chest with the other hand, grabbing onto the hilt of the sword in its chest and beginning to pull it free. His intentions, it would seem, were far grimmer than just strangling me to death. I began pounding and scratching at the hand holding me up, but that only seemed to entertain the giant. Finally, he freed the sword from his body and reared it back, undoubtedly with the intent of swinging the gigantic blade forward and slicing my frail body in two.

"Fire! Fire!" I cursed at myself in my head, but I knew I simply didn't have the time to conjure up a flame before I was divided. Going with the idea though, I grabbed my wand from the loop of clothing I had holstered it in and raised it above my head, quickly bringing the pointy-edged branch down into the left eye of my attacker. There was a squishy 'pop' sound and fluid burst forth from the gouged orb. I dropped like a stone as the creature released a loud bellow and relinquished its hold on me. I hit the ground at the same time as the great sword he had held in his other hand. I had managed to land on my feet at first, but I was so unprepared for anything that I fell flat on my ass a moment later. Now was my chance, but… my wand- it was sticking out of his face and I had no means to summon fire without it. The colossus covered his face with one hand and reached for the branch with the other. Clumsily, he bumped into it and caused further damage to the area, which resulted in another thunderous growl before he began swiping at the empty air in front of him with both hands, as if he had mistaken his own ineptness for being attacked. Another idea entered into my head and I quickly crawled to where my shield lay. I latched onto the wooden boards firmly and focused my attention on raising the enormous sword that came so close to ending my existence. The sharpened slab of metal began to hover for a single moment before dropping back into the sand. My mind was too scattered with the chaos of the last minute and the fear coursing through my veins. I had to close my eyes to concentrate my complete focus on stimulating the large blade, even if that meant I could not move away from the beast's advances.

"Rise. Rise and fight for me," I demanded through gritted teeth. "Ri-"

Before I could finish, the man latched his behemoth-sized hand around my face. It took all of a second for the sensation of his nails digging into my cheeks and forehead to turn from a sting to a burn. I was too late; this would be my end. The archer's head was crushed by his foot… mine would be by his hand.

Suddenly there was a 'whoosh' sound in the air, steadily accompanied by a roar that matched the one 'twas made when I gouged the creature's eye out. The crushing hold on my head disappeared completely and the hand fell from my face… and to the ground.

My focus had held long enough to enchant the sword and bring it to my aid. As the monster stumbled backwards and held onto the bleeding stump where its right hand used to be, my subordinate began to slice away at it.

I began to laugh wildly, allowing myself to fall back into the sandy beach around me as the danger was pushed back further and further away. I must have looked a sight mad, laughing while a beast was being torn to ribbons by the very thing it was going to end my life with. I sat up in time to watch the steel avoid an oafish swing by the lug and thrust itself deep into his neck, undoubtedly exiting through the back of it. His arms fell; his knees buckled and became buried in the sand as the entire weight of its body fell with them. The hilt of the sword dug into the sand and propped the beast up from complete collapse. It was effectively stuck, but the threat had been neutralized.

I warily made my way to the undead, holding my shield close to my body (as if the thing could protect me from this kind of menace anyway). It was still alive, somehow. His remaining eye followed me as I neared and his jaw moved up and down. I stood there for a few moments, basking in the victory that I had narrowly accomplished. Perhaps that gem wasn't so useless after all.

As the great blade began to wither into nothing, I hastily grabbed ahold of my wand, not wanting to risk losing it to some sort of damage if the bag of flesh before me fell upon it. Without anything to hold his body up, the giant fell, and the weight of his head alone almost pulled me down with him. The few tendons holding the skull to the neck gave way and the mass toppled to the ground, leaking what little amount of blood was left in it from the stump in-between its shoulders.

I wiggled the wand in my hand several times until the detached head slid off of it and joined the rest of its remains at my feet.

A tingle began to creep up my throat and I couldn't tell if it was going to be a cackle or a scream, so I simply swallowed it and continued forward on my unsteady legs. Playing with the power of the gems had made me a little fatigued, but being tossed around like a child's plaything left me all in a near-comatose state and every step felt as if it was the hardest one of my life.

* * *

It wasn't long before I came before yet another barricade that blocked my progression. This one spanned the width of the beach and there was no feasible way for me to walk around it. The wall was composed of more upright, sharpened logs, only these were much taller and tightly packed together. If someone or something tried to breach whatever lie behind them, they would have a hard time doing so. At the far left of the fortification there was something that appeared to be a makeshift door hidden into the creation. I staggeringly made my way to the camouflaged orifice and rapped my fist upon it several times. It wasn't exactly the wisest move I could have made, but leaving my fate in the hands of the harsh elements behind me was none the wiser. Voices seeped through the divider, but they were far too muffled for me to make anything out of them.

Not more than a second later a fist-sized square of the log door pulled back, revealing a small glimpse to the other side. All that could be seen was the all-too-familiar rough surface of the cliff-side, though. I took notice of the boxy piece of wood before it vanished. Whoever had created this little pull-away was rather clever, as it was notched in a fashion that it could only come out on way and there would be no possible means to extract it from my end.

"Finally come to your senses have ya, Daela?" a gruff voice questioned from the opening. Judging by his lilting Gaan accent, he likely came from the Di'Taer Isles. Just saying the name alone was almost enough to make you momentarily adopt the inflection all of the islanders carried in their voices. He shifted to get a better view and I watched his eye widen in surprise. "'ey, you're not Daela! Who're you?"

"A survivor," I let out in a wheeze, trying to determine the amount of caution I should be executing with such a greeting. I tried to get a good look at who was speaking with me, but the opening was small and his face was right next to it. He looked worse for wear though. Long strands of gray hair covered his face like a veil and I could see deep crow's feet along the outer corner of the eye that was priggishly leering at me.

"I can see that from the look of your face. Bruises and cuts all over ya. Anyway, you won't be a survivor for long; not with Hillock out there. Can't open the door for ya. He may be stalking right 'round the corner and we'd all be dead if he got in 'ere."

"Who- who are you talking about?" I inquired and my voice sounded a fair bit distant to my own ears. Along with the exhaustion, a feeling of dizziness was now growing thicker and thicker in my head. I rested my hand against one of the wooden pillars and learned into it, trying not to fall over from the sensation of the world beginning to spin.

"Don't act like you 'aven't seen 'im, love. He's like one uh dem drowned dead, only way bigger. The bruiser could prolly squash a sand spitter with his foot!"

"Oh, so that thing had a name? Hillock, you said? Well, I'm afraid he fell to pieces."

The man looked at me for a moment and began bellowing with laughter. "Oh, that's an ace one that is, love. Sadly, we ain't in no need of jesters 'round here."

"Are you always this stupid?" I asked the man point-blank, growing tired of his inflexible stance and superiority complex. I took a slight satisfaction in watching his expression drop. "If Hillock were still alive he would have stomped his way over here by now with all the yelling and laughing you have been doing." I desperately fought the temptation to simply launch a ball of fire into the ignorant fool's face and be done with him… but that wasn't the kind of action that would gain me shelter.

"Fine. If he's really dead, then prove it."

"Prove it? I'm here, alive and talking to you. Isn't that proof enough."

"Not in the least, love. Not in the least. Run along now," he continued to patronize while replacing the pull-away block.

All at once I was enraged and ready to burn the pathetic little barrier to the ground in an act of defiance. The fire was already building, throbbing around my hand as I clenched the Ignis Fatuus branch tightly in the other. I shot the flaring globe into the sand far ahead of me and there was an explosion of light and sprinkling of sand for a few moments. The crater left behind was filled with burning embers that seems to epitomize my anger with how they spat and crackled.

He wanted proof? The bastard would get his proof then.

* * *

I backtracked to where the three scattered parts that made up Hillock were, planning in my head that the hand would have to do well enough, as it was the only piece I could carry with minimal trouble in my state of fatigue. The body would have been an over-the-top kind of exhilaration to present, but the damned thing must have weighted as much as a boulder and telekinesis was a power I never possessed, even before my unfortunate silencing.

As I made my way around a protruding crag, I caught sight of a familiar kind of six-legged figure, eagerly feasting on the giant's remnants.

"Leave it, you treacherous slime!" I yelled and swung my wand, shooting a projection of energy at the thing. I completely missed, but the blast was enough to scare it into skittering away, leaving the fleshy meal behind.

Reaching down, I latched onto the forefinger and held the fist as a child would with their mother or father. I stumbled my way back to the barrier, completely blanking out on small bits of time as I did. Another rapid rap of my fist to the wood and the sequence started again. A murmuring of voices and the piece of wood was removed once more.

"Thought I told ya you were outta luck, love. You'll find no safety in here until that-"

I cut the man off mid-sentence by holding up the giant's detached appendage in front of the hole. "Proof, yes?" I asked snidely, and even that was an exercise in enervation.

An odd sound escaped his throat, as if he was trying to reply, but the words simply would not budge. Finally something other than an utterance came out. "Ye- yes! Hold on, love!" the man squawked, sounding surprised. He turned his head back to something or someone I could not see. "Tarkleigh! Tarkleigh, come 'ere!"

I listened as some sort of bar or fastening device was removed and the door was slowly pulled open.

"Well stick a spit in me an' call me a roast-Rhoa! That really is his hand, innit? How did ya do it? How did ya kill him?"

I wanted to continue to taunt him with a spiteful attitude and tell him the beast tore itself apart at my request, but before I could even try to respond, my world went black.

* * *

_Author's note: We finally made it off that damn beach!_


	6. Still alive, are we?

**Chapter 6 – "Still alive, are we?"**

* * *

There was the sound of chains rattling against themselves in perpetual motion, the feel of water trickling down from above and running off my shoulder... and the sick smell of fear and desperation. The people around me were afflicted with illness, ready to just give up on everything or slowly driving themselves to their own breaking point. Something they all shared though, was an increased breathing brought about by fright and the excessive excretion of perspiration from the emotional stress of dejection and intimidation. I hated the smell because it was so thick I could taste it. I hated the smell because it was such an overwhelming sign of weakness. I hated the smell because _I_ was part of it.

Fear was not something that was accepted in my family. It wasn't something that you received coddling and comfort for. It only garnered disdain and ridicule.

You had to be tough to be a witch, because no one was ever going to love you or care about you, and everyone wanted to see you hurt, scared or dead. Even your own family had to adapt the same cruel outlook from time to time in order to get the point across. Started crying over something? You would get a quick, sharp rap across the knuckles from some blunt instrument. If you continued on after that, it would only get worse.

I was shaming the name of all witches by falling prey to my emotions and fears just like any of these other cur around me. Perhaps I did deserve to lose my powers and be chained in the ship bound for Wraeclast after all.

"Hey... hey," the shackled man next to me whispered, trying to garner my attention. "If you're innocent, beg mercy when the guards come. They may- they may hear your case. I mean, they're men of reason, right? I was just drunk, that's all. I never would have willingly uttered blasphemies otherwise. They'll understand. They have to-"

I cut the man off, hardly able to take his self-pity any longer. "We've already been judged. That's why we're here. There is no hope for us."

"Don't- don't say that. You can't believe that. I don't deserve this. I know I don't. And you, you're just a woman – what could you have done to be exiled?"

I released a quiet bout of laughter before answering. "I didn't even receive a proper trial. I was found guilty before I could say a word in defense of myself. Then again, I did murder children, men, women and 'holy' followers of the Order without hesitation. How many words would I have had to come up with to properly shield that?"

The man did not reply and I was almost delighted at the twisted look of horror and disbelief written on his face when I finally did glance at him.

* * *

"On your feet, scum!" one of the blackguards ordered from behind the iron-bar door before unlocking it and walking into the crowded room they were holding all of us in.

Another man followed behind him, his attire was much different and he appeared to be of higher ranking.

"Attention, prisoners!" he bellowed assertively. "For your crimes against Oriath, you have been exiled to the forsaken continent of Wraeclast. The majesties of Oriath are merciful and have granted all exiles one weapon... choose wisely. Oriath has bestowed a gift upon you: a chance to redeem your crimes; a new life. Do not squander it."

The commanding guard turned and left and the first one spoke up again. "Swim straight for the shore; stay together, and look for others who can help you. You're not the first exiles, and you won't be the last!"

More soldiers entered the room after their superiors' speeches were finished. They unlocked our chains and began marching us up to the top deck of the ship. When we arrived, we were met with the crackling of thunder overhead, blinding flashes of lightning and rain falling so hard and fast that it stung with each hit. You couldn't see anything passed the end of the ship and all the lightning seemed to do was illuminate an endless length of dark clouds overhead and far beyond.

One by one they began to offer pathetic excuses for weapons to the exiled and then throw them overboard. The man in front of me, the blasphemer, refused to pick between a variety of rusty, worn swords in a deteriorating barrel. This 'mercy' of the majesties was nothing more than a clever way to rid their army of battered, broken artillery. After more pressuring, he tried to fight back, to overpower the well-armed guard who meant to toss him into the ice-cold waves below and be done with him. He was stabbed in the side for his trouble, and when he continued to protest and wouldn't let go of the side of the ship, trying the reason of words instead of the power of force, they snapped his neck and sent his lifeless body tumbling down into the abyss.

"You want the same thing, witch?" a man yelled and yanked me forward with a bundle of my own hair. I screamed out in pain, which only seemed to delight him.

"I've killed better than you, swine!" I taunted, knowing full-well that my end was at hand no matter if I was alive for the plummet or not. I spat in his face and smiled, feeling somewhat disoriented as the adrenaline swelled in my head and gave everything the veiled impression of somehow being imaginary.

The blackguard retaliated by punching me in the gut, hard. All of the air simple vanished from my lungs and I stumbled backwards, inadvertently falling off the side of the ship of my own accord. I didn't even get a weapon. Would've been the only thing the majesties would have ever given me... or anyone in my family.

The ocean water met my back and stung harder than the droplets of rain could even attempt to. I was submerged and dropping like a stone. It felt like that was all I would do, just continue to go down further and further, with no air left to even hold onto. My heart was racing and my brain was pounding, I couldn't begin to make an effort to rise to the surface. My vision, already murky, was fading and the strength in my limbs was next to nothing. The pressure of the water felt like a sweet embrace and a harrowing clutch at the same time, and suddenly...

* * *

I jolted upright and began gasping for air. Air that was, thankfully, readily available and felt almost divine with each breath. I awoke not on a beach this time, but under a canopy on a bed made of stone.

A nightmare. A nightmare that was nothing more than a memory of what happened. I had survived the deathly plunge, I had washed up on the beach and fought my way up the coast and now... now I am here. But where is _here_ exactly?

As the frenzy left my body, I began to investigate my surroundings visually. This place was in ruins. The stone archway passages were crumbling and some have even deteriorated completely. There was a large fireplace not far from me that was spreading light and heat, but there was not much more else that the area offered aside from a few standing torches in various spots. Next to me lay more sick, or maybe just depressed. I couldn't really tell, nor did I care enough to find out for sure. No matter what their condition, the majority of these people were barely surviving. I propped myself against the wall while my body caught up with my mind in actually waking up. It was then that I noticed the bandages wrapping both of my bare feet. Someone had taken care to make sure the cloth was spread properly and it appeared skillfully applied, even if my apparent wounds were bleeding through the material.

"Still alive, are we?" I heard a silvery voice question.

I darted my head up and to the side, watching as three men approached me without an ounce of caution among them. They may not have needed to be guarded, but I certainly couldn't let mine down. Then again, I didn't really have a choice. My weapons and gems were nowhere to be found and I was already well aware of my inability to protect myself without those resources. Besides, if they truly wanted me dead, I already would be by now. Perhaps they wanted something worse though...

* * *

The tallest of them wore some sort of cloth sash across his upper torso with a scabbard crossing underneath it. He also had a finely wrapped bandage across his face, holding a patch of material over his right eye. Oddly enough, he was only wearing one boot, as well. The second man I recognized immediately as the pompous doorman. He walked just as oafishly as he sounded. The third was yet another mystery to me, though I got the distinct feeling that he was not one to be trifled with. Even with his walk he held himself in a way that read 'Danger - Approach at your own risk' and his stoic face conveyed the same message.

They stopped just at the edge of the canopy, their long shadows creeping along the stone squares.

"I thought I would be a dead woman by now," I calmly replied, trying to study their face for a telltale sign of their intentions.  
"You still might be, love. This land, it innit kind to any of us," the doorman replied. Somehow he made every word of his sentence sound roguish.

"Enough, Kessler," the injured man requested, putting a hand on the shoulder of the buffoon. "She bested Hillock, which is far better than any of us could do." He dropped his hand and came closer to me, bending at the knees and lowering to eye-level. "My name is Tarkleigh. In a way, I am kind of the leader of this ragtag group of survivors. You did us a great service by removing Hillock as a threat. We've been blocked in on either side of the camp for a while, but now we can at least scavenge the West side of the beach for food and supplies again. I think I speak for everyone when I say 'Thank you', even if your actions were not intended for our benefit."

He looked at me as if expecting a reply, but I had no words to share. General conversation was never a strong point of mine and people's predisposition to judge me harshly over my lineage never helped in developing the skill, either.

"Quite the humble one, I see." There was a small smile on his face that appeared friendly enough to me.

"Either that or she's tired," the third man said. His voice sounded flat and dead, but I could also hear a certain prestige about it as well. "She's probably an exile fresh off the boat. Lucky she survived to reach Hillock at all, let alone kill the brute. Now that's a story I want to hear about."

"We all do," Tarkleigh laughed and looked over his shoulder. "And you're likely right, Shadow, she must still be exhausted. I remember when I woke up on the shores of this desolate place. Just making it across the beach alive was enough to wear me out all over again." Once again Tarkleigh turned on his heels and faced me, still crouching with his elbows resting on his knees. His hands dangled like stalactites from a cave ceiling back home.

"Get some more rest, please. You're safe here, I promise. We'll talk again when you are more yourself. There is... a favor I want to ask of you." He stood and walked back to the group.

Favor? What favor? I owed this man nothing. What made him think he could depend on _me_ for a favor? And I _was_ being myself in our interaction, but he had a rather good point... I was still exhausted as well. Wearily, I watched them all congregate at some sort of wooden chest and they were joined by a tall, skinny blond woman in tattered red and white clothing.

My eyelids grew heavy as they opened the top of the chest and the girl began to rummage through it. I was curious as to what they would remove from the container, but I did not have the will to fight against my need for sleep. I slouched my body further against the wall and allowed myself to repose.

* * *

_Author's Note: Slow-ish chapter, I know, but I needed it to be. Also, believe me I know how cheap it seems to have a shadow-character named "Shadow", but I have a neat little story planned for the nickname._


End file.
